


War Bonds

by Measured_Words



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Diablotin III, Epic Bromance, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, House Rat, Mala Tajna, Psyrene War, References to Organized Crime, Smoking, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2604230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/pseuds/Measured_Words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early months of the Psyrene War, an epic bromance is born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Bonds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/gifts).



“Hey lieutenant,” someone had called, “Come play cards with us!” Ralf had been too busy studying his hand - and the hand of the soldier next to him - to pay attention to who, but the quiet cheering that followed made him look up. It was lieutenant - second lieutenant - Suterre, who was already something of an anomaly among the other officers in the company, as he wasn’t either noble or particularly rich. He was technically attached to Ralf’s platoon, supervising the two squads that were mostly made up of sorcerers, but like the rest of them he didn’t seem to have much to do. The field base had been set up in the unclaimed land between Isyene and Psyra proper, but they’d been here a month and there hadn’t been any reports of enemies in the area. So far, the war had been nothing but endless days of training, and sitting around in the evenings trying to find something more interesting to pass the time. The charm of cards, dice and drinking were starting to wear.

“Whaddaya got there?”

The group had set up behind the mess tent, seated on some crates of rations. Suterre leaned in over them, arms crossed casually. 

“Poker. Five card, sir.” It was Harald who answered, and Ralf guessed he must have been the one who spoke up earlier. He was a sorcerer too, and probably knew the lieutenant a little better.

Suterre looked around at the people gathered - they were all in the same platoon, with different units, and some had been training together for even longer. Ralf gazed back - he’d heard things, and he’d heard the name before too, back in Rhenea. The lieutenant mustn’t have been bothered by his curiosity though - he shrugged and nudged another crate over. “Eh. We’re all off duty, ain’t we?” He sat down, giving the group an easy smile as he pushed up his sleeves. “Deal me in.”

Usually the officers were meant to hang out with the other officers, and the enlisted men with their own - Ralf thought there might have even been some kind of rule. The first hand was a little awkward, but by the second everyone seemed to be relaxed and enjoying the game. The flask of whiskey that Suterre - he told them to call him Ander, but it took some getting used to - passed around probably went a fair ways to helping break the ice, but more so his easy manner. He was comfortable with them, and it helped them be comfortable with him. He was a good card player too, but Ralf could tell he wasn’t playing to win.

The game had already been going some time, and the small group started to disperse as the evening drew on. By midnight they were down to a quartet consisting of Ralf, Harald, Ander, and another sorcerer named Jillain. The drinks had run out and the pot seemed pretty evenly split between the four of them. Ander lit another cigarette and eyed the others as he leaned back to count his winnings. “Don’t you slackers have somewhere to be in the morning?”

With some goodnatured grumbling, the two sorcerers packed up their own winnings and Harald’s cards, and started back towards their tents. Ralf started to do so as well, but moved a little more slowly. He was deciding whether he wanted to ask about the rumours he’d heard when Ander offered him a cigarette.

“You’re from Rhenea right?” Ander was speaking Rat now, and offered him a light. “Ran with the Triple Daggers, down at the court?” 

“Yeah.” And if he knew that, that answered what Ralf had wondered: he had to be with the Mala Tajna, and he probably knew who every Rat in the battalion was.

“Drafted?” 

Ralf nodded, taking a drag off his smoke. “They don’t draft officers, though.”

“Nah, they don’t.” Ander shrugged, then grinned, shuffling over to make himself more comfortable on the crates while he smoked. “But it was better than the alternative.”

Ralf nodded, considering what the possibilities there were. Maybe he’d needed to get out of the city for a while? But surely there’d have been better options than joining the army, even as a commissioned officer. “Your, uh, friends get you the rank, then?”

“Well… they didn’t hurt none. But maybe I had a little more to offer, let’s say, than some of their other potentials.”

“The nobs?” Ralf wondered what it would be like to deal with them day in and day out - it was bad enough having them be in charge, and for the most part he’d rather not have anything to do with them on his own time. It was no wonder Ander’d joined the game.

“Some ain’t so bad. Some are worse.”

“Cairvelle?”

Ander made a face. “What do you think?” Marcel Cairvelle was the lieutenant in charge of their platoon. He was from some nob Lizard family, and in theory he’d been trained to command. 

“He’s greener than the rest of us combined. I hope the rest of the war’s this quiet if he’s who we’ve got to listen to, or we’re fucked.”

“If they thought his so called training was worth half a shit…” He shook his head. His hair, Ralf had noted earlier, was just past what was supposed to be regulation length. “He’d have a platoon all to himself, is all I’m sayin’. And it wouldn’t be out here in the middle of nowhere where it’s as quiet as an empty pub.”

Ralf grinned, though he couldn’t tell if Ander had meant to let loose with that tirade or if that was the whiskey talking. Probably he could get in a lot of trouble for bad mouthing his superiors, even if they were complete pills, not that Ralf was going to snitch. “So what’s that say about you then, second lieutenant?”

“Heh.” Ander took another long drag. “It says… A shit posting’s still better than the Creux. I don’t mind it bein’ dead out here - this war ain’t nothin’ to me any more than I bet it is to you. If it don’t stay quiet though? I don’t plan on letting some wet blanket get me or anyone else killed.”

Ralf nodded. “Well that’s good to hear. Maybe this platoon won’t be a complete trainwreck.”

“Yeah - not if I can do anything about it.”

“So…” Ralf hesitated, but Ander had brought it up. “The Creux, was it? That’s a story I gotta hear someday.”

“Yeah, man, sure, some other night.” Ander stubbed out the butt of his cigarette and glanced up at the moon briefly. It was probably getting close to one, which meant about five hours of sleep if they were lucky. “Do me a favour though, and don’t spread that around, would ya?”

Ralf smirked. “No problem, I got your back. It can be our secret.” 

Ander smirked back - he didn’t seem offended or guarded by the call out. “Mala tajna, then,” he repeated the words and stood, brushing off his pants and offered his hand to shake. “We Rats gotta look out for each other, after all - I’ll see you around, Ralf.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the fact that I was home sick on Remembrance day >.>


End file.
